


follow you down

by humanveil



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Season/Series 01, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:09:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26304670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: It’s Eve’s voice—a hitched breath, filled to the brim with pleasure—that Elena recognises.
Relationships: Elena Felton/Carolyn Martens/Eve Polastri
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23
Collections: Femslashficlets Prompt Fills, femslashficlets





	follow you down

It’s Eve’s voice—a hitched breath, filled to the brim with pleasure—that Elena recognises. She stops just short of their office and listens, too aware of her own body as she tries to pay attention and peer through the crack all at once. Intrigue spikes at the sight that greets her: Eve, on her knees, head between someone’s thighs, a hand twisted in the mane of curls. Elena can’t see who the hand belongs to; there’s a bloody bulletin board that obscures the view. She has half a mind to barge in, bold as brass, if only to sate the curiosity creeping up her spine.

But she knows better. Is starting to.

She drops her bag with care and pulls her phone from her pocket. There’s another groan from inside, Eve’s voice muffled against an inner thigh, and Elena grins as she pulls up Bill’s contact. She’s halfway through typing, _You’re never gonna guess what I’m looking at_ when Eve’s partner speaks, and she has to think quick in order to not drop her phone, because all coherent thought goes out the window after that.

“Good, Eve,” comes Carolyn’s voice. There’s something professorial about it, and it sounds so much like every woman in every power-fuelled fantasy Elena’s ever concocted that she’s wet in seconds. Never mind that _Carolyn_ takes the role of said women more often than not, these days.

She scrambles, just a bit. Has to press her thighs together as arousal replaces intrigue, jealousy flickering in the pit of her stomach. _Holy fuck_ , is about the only thing she can string together as she crouches, tries to get a better view, visual confirmation. She catches a glimpse of Carolyn’s pant leg, her orange loafer. Her heart stutters in her chest.

There’s another moan—Carolyn’s, this time. It’s more of a sigh, really. Quiet but there, and Elena can only imagine the feel of it on her skin. Her cunt clenches at the thought. _God,_ she thinks. _What the fuck, Eve?_

Adrenaline tingles through her, and she’s suddenly hot beneath the collar, her turtleneck too restricting. She’s more turned on than she’s been in months; she can’t help the way her fingers inch toward the hem of her skirt, heart in her throat as she hesitates. Their office is in the middle of nowhere, Elena tries to reason with herself, and she’s the only one out hiding in the halls. It’s not like she’s going to get _caught._

She bits her lip. Contemplates.

The decision is made for her.

“Do stop loitering by the door,” calls Carolyn, a paragon of composure despite the circumstances. “You’re disturbing the draft.”

Elena freezes. Stumbles a bit when she hears Eve’s laugh, knowing and smug and yeah, okay, fucking hot. She takes a deep breath and gathers her courage, feels like she’s in a state of shock as she pushes the door open, just a little, her head peeking around the crack. “Sorry,” she tries. Then realises she doesn’t know what else to say. She points a thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll just…”

 _Go,_ she thinks. _Leave._ Pop to the bathroom and rub one out. Even through the embarrassment, her arousal burns strong, especially now that she’s got a better view. Carolyn leans against a desk, pants pulled down her legs while Eve kneels with her skirt hiked, her mouth wet and glistening and _fuck_. Fuck. 

Elena tries to catch a glimpse of Carolyn’s exposed thighs without making it obvious, but the shit-eating grin Eve sends her lets her know how poorly she manages.

“I think we’re past modesty, don’t you?” Carolyn says, self-assured.

Elena stares. _Surely she doesn’t mean…_

But Carolyn tightens her grip on Eve’s hair, her hold directing her back between her thighs. She leans against the desk, eye catching Elena’s, and smirks. “Well,” she says, expectant. “What are you waiting for?”

Elena doesn’t need an additional invitation. 


End file.
